Conqueror, Vanquisher, Master
by KatnissGinnyMaxTally1
Summary: Their stories became the stuff of legend, and in time they became known as the three brothers. Bad Friends Trio centric.
1. Part One

Part One: The Elder Wand

_So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

The town was silent, and peaceful, but Gilbert was boiling inside. He would finally, _finally _be able to have his vengeance. He had the wand, the _Elder wand_, made by Death himself. And now, he would use it.

He saw the man exit a village shop. Gilbert watched as he turned the corner; he steeled himself before running after the man, who did not seem to notice.

"_YOU!" _Gilbert screamed. The man whirled around, recognizing Gilbert's voice, and looked momentarily surprised. He tried to reach for his wand, but he was not fast enough, and the words were out of Gilbert's mouth before he could think about them.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

"Hey, you! Buy me another beer, or I'll kill you with a flick of the wrist!" Gilbert laughed, his face red, as he pretended to curse the bartender. The bartender sighed, deciding that these were normal late-night drinking antics, and handed Gilbert another drink. Gilbert stood from his seat in the cloudy bar, and climbed onto the table. A few men groaned as he knocked over their food.

"This! This is the unbeatable wand!" He yelled, waving the wand he had recently acquired into the air. "No one can defeat me! Ha!"

"The wand is only as strong as the wizard, sir." Said a man. He had just sat down at the table.

"Ah, there you are wrong, you fool!" Gilbert chuckled, kneeling down to grin at the man. "_This _wand, my deathstick, has been created by Death. It is a wand that never fails to reach it's purpose!"

"And what is its purpose?" Said the man. Gilbert stood, and jumped off the table, walking towards the hall that led to his room for the night.

"To kill, of course. This wand was made to kill."

It was night now, and Gilbert lay wine-sodden across his bed. His Elder Wand lay limply in his hand. The sounds of rowdiness from the tavern below could still be heard, but Gilbert was immune to it, exhausted by the many happenings of his day. _It was very tiring to kill a man…and yet so easy…_

He did not move as the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. Someone slowly entered the room; first there was a foot, then a leg, then a torso, and soon enough an entire man stood there. It was the very man who had questioned Gilbert in the bar; no he wanted the wand for himself.

The man breathed evenly as he walked to the bed. He pulled the Elder Wand from Gilbert's grip one inch at a time. Gilbert only moved once; his head jerked to the side. Soon enough, the man had the Elder Wand in his grip. He removed a shining knife from his cloak, and smiled as he held it to Gilbert's throat.

"I am very sorry to do this, sir. But only the powerful will succeed; people will come to remember me. And you? You die here, by my hands." He said. "It was very nice to meet you."

And Death took the first brother for his own.


	2. Part Two

Part Two: The Resurrection Stone

_The second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

"Jeanne…Jeanne, my love …"

"…Francis…" her voice, like a whisper, crept to his ears tauntingly. Francis gripped the stone tightly in his hand. He stared at the cold wood floor, not daring to look into the face of the one he loved.

"Francis…look at me, _Francis_…"

"It cannot be you. You are…you are dead." Francis' words were followed by a sob, and he fell to his knees. He heard a slight intake of breath above him, and then there was a cold chill that touched the top of his head. It caused him to look up, and he finally saw the ghost of a woman that he loved many years ago.

She wore what she had worn the day of her death, but it seemed almost singed at the edges. She smiled sadly down at him, her dirty blonde hair falling around her shoulders. There she was, right in front of him for the first time in many years. He reached out to hold her hand…and realized that he could not.

"Jeanne…I am so sorry…I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't want—,"

"It isn't your fault, Francis. There was nothing that you could do."

Francis still looked at the spot where Jeanne's transparent hand could have touched his, and he whimpered softly.

"I wish…I wish that we had gotten more time, Jeanne." He said, meeting her dull eyes. He smiled sadly. "We were…going to travel when you settled down, weren't we? We were going to go on many an adventure."

"We were. And we still can." Jeanne said. "I'm here now, aren't I."

Francis suddenly stood, wiping his eyes. "Not exactly…I can't touch you. I can hardly see you when it is dark. I can only hear your voice."

"It is not enough to quench my thirst to be with you, but it will do for now, my love." Jeanne whispered.

"It is not enough for me!" Francis snapped. There was a silence as Jeanne looked at him sadly. He turned away from her and collapsed into a chair, crying. "I love you, Jeanne…I do not want to be without you any longer…I want to be there with you."

"And I want to be with you, Francis, but you must persevere and—Francis, my love, what are you doing? Put it down, Francis! Put down the knife! Please, my love! No!"

The stone dropped from his hand.

And Death took the second brother for his own.


End file.
